No Shave
by Little Miss Submissive
Summary: After America tells England that there is absolutely NO WAY that the island nation could ever grow a beard, England plans to prove him wrong. UKUS. Beard kink. Smut. PWP. Crack. Lemon. Yaoi.


America strolled up England's driveway, smile on his face. He hadn't seen the Brit in several weeks; after England had gotten upset when America told him that there was _no way_ that he could grow a beard. In the hundreds of years that they had known each other, England had always been sure to stay clean shaven, lest he be compared to the Frenchman whom he loathed.

But that silly argument was far from the American's mind. He was just happy that England had caved and called him first, inviting him over for tea. Not that America would actually drink tea. Being invited over for tea was more like a code for "down to fuck".

Not even bothering to knock, America let himself in. "Yo England! Where you at?" America called.

"Keep your voice down when you're inside, America. I'm just in the drawing room," England replied, one room over.

"Yeah, yeah..." America replied, shutting the front door and making his way towards the drawing room. "So on the way over, I was thinkin—"

When America laid his eyes on England, he froze. His eyes widened and, even more unusually, he found himself at a loss for words. England sat in his usual chair, newspaper in his lap, a cup of tea on the end table... and a blonde beard on his face.

"Hm? Well, out with it…. what were you thinking?" England asked casually. Oh god... and seeing it move as he talked was even weirder!

"Dude, what the hell is on your face?**!**" America cried.

"A beard, you stupid git," England replied as he stroked it. America was amazed. It wasn't just some scruff... no. It had to be hanging at least four or five inches from his chin.

"I know _that_! WHY?**!**"

"Well, you're the one who started all that '_you totally can't grow a beard, England'_ nonsense," England replied, setting his newspaper aside and standing up, walking towards America. "And when you said I couldn't possibly grow a beard, I just had to prove you wrong. I can see you didn't even try..."

England reached his hand up to America's cheek, sliding it down behind his neck. America was tense beneath his fingers, his eyes unable to look away from England's beard. Though, when England began pulling him towards his face by his neck, America quickly snapped out of it, shoving the Englishman away.

"There's _no way_ I'm kissing you with that thing!"

"Quite the contrary... I don't intend to shave until after I have fucked you senseless, you selfish brat. And afterwards, I think you'll be begging me to keep it," England sneered, and America saw a look in his eyes that went right to his dick.

"Yeah right! It's weird and it probably has pieces of scone in it or something!" America shuddered. His back met the wall as England and his freaky beard advanced on him.

"Now, America... this is nothing like you," England teased as he buried himself in America's neck, kissing along his collar bone and upwards.

"Nng..." America moaned, feeling the hairs of England's beard tickling his skin. It felt kinda nic— NO. This is weird! America shrunk away, recoiling from the strange sensation which was England's facial hair.

"Since when did you get so shy?"

"Okay, great joke England! Now shave it off!"

"Tsk... seems like we'll have to do this the hard way," England mused.

"The hard—?"

The back of England's hand collided with America's cheek, the force catching America by surprise. Before he even had time to recover from the blow, the Englishman roughly grabbed his face, making America look him in the eyes.

"You'll do as I say, you _slut_. If you don't, I'll be sure to grow a beard that would put Dumbledore to shame," England sneered.

America couldn't do it. He just couldn't do it. He could _not_ take England seriously with that beard, moving in time with his lips. His eyes were locked on it and his body was suddenly working against him. He wondered what it would feel like to kiss a bearded England, but quickly tried to shake the thought from his mind. That was the last thing he wanted!

"Y-Yes, sir..." America whimpered, having been cornered.

"That's more like it. Now, come. To the bedroom, twat," England spat, stepping aside. America slowly pried himself off of the wall, taking shaky steps towards the bedroom. He didn't know why he was nervous. He and England had done much worse than this but... that FUCKING beard was gonna haunt his nightmares!

"Strip," England ordered as they reached the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. America painstakingly began taking off his clothes. It was as if England had taken special precautions to seem extra creepy today... and the beard wasn't helping. America stopped as he was about to take off his boxers, realizing that his cock was betraying him. He prayed that England wouldn't notice, but—

"I've already noticed, lad. Honestly, the sooner you admit that you find my beard sexy, the easier this'll be on both of us," England advised.

"Fat chance... you know I've never cared for the easy way," America retorted, earning a glare from England.

"On the bed," England sneered, beginning to take off his shirt. America climbed onto the bed on all fours. This would be a piece of cake. He wouldn't even have to watch England fuck him and the beard would be gone in the morning, simple as that. "Tsk... now, you know better," England scolded. "On your back. I want to see that cute little face of yours."

America whimpered as he slowly turned, lying on his back. His stomach twisted as England got onto the bed, hovering over him with that fucking beard on his face.

"You look positively mortified," England chuckled, running his fingers along America's sides, making the other squirm.

"Cuh— Cut it out!" America whined. He was ignored by England as he began kissing up his chest, his beard tickling his stomach. He kept moving upwards, making his way to America's nipples before taking one in his mouth, sucking and lapping on it gently.

America could have kicked himself a thousand times for letting a shuddering moan escape his lips. His nipples were one of his weak spots... and as much as he hated to admit it, that damn beard was making him enjoy it even more. England moved on, trailing kisses up America's neck and to his jaw line. America continued to squirm. He could no longer feel England's kisses, just his beard as it tickled his skin.

"Just surrender already..." England crooned, finally meeting America's lips. For a moment, America didn't even move. But in a matter of seconds, all of America's pride seemed to vanish as he realized that England's beard was one of the sexiest things he had ever seen.

He kissed back with more vigor than England had been expecting. America loved how England's mustache tickled his upper lip. He loved bringing his hands up to England's face so he could run his fingers through it. It was so soft, not dirty or coarse like he had been expecting.

England pulled away while America still had his fingers tangled in his beard. The smirk on England's face made his cock twitch. America turned his head away as he felt his blood rush to his cheeks.

"Enjoying yourself?" England teased, thumbing one of America's nipples.

"Nng-n-no..." he whimpered in response.

"Say it..."

"Say what?**!**"

"Say how much you love it."

"No! I'm not!"

At that, England roughly grabbed America's legs. America was pulled so he could feel England's cock right up against his entrance, one of his legs going over England's shoulder. England moved his beard against America's thigh making the other want to jump back.

"Say it or I'll take you dry," England spat. America squirmed as he tried to get out his current position, but England's hold held strong.

"Nng... no. England, cut it out!"

"I'm waiting..." England sighed as he painfully began pushing into America's unlubed, unprepared asshole.

"Ahh! Ah, no! It's HOT, okay?**!**" America cried. Fuck, that hurt! And he was relieved when England stopped moving.

"Go on."

"Damn it, England! I said it was hot, what— FUCK!" America yelled as England pushed in even further. Even England released a painful groan, for it didn't feel very good to him either. "It— it's _sexy_, okay?**! **Your beard, it... it's so soft and all I can fucking think about is it trailing against my skin! I just want you to kiss me again so I can run my fingers through it and stroke it!" America cried.

Through America's eyes, England had never looked cockier. And America hated himself for giving him exactly what he wanted.

"All you had to do was say so, lad," England crooned before roughly pulling out, making America wince, and meeting the other's lips once more. America returned the kisses timidly. "No need to be shy..." England said, taking America hands and guiding them towards his face.

"Dude, _my ass_! You're such a jerk! With this fucking beard and... fuck," America mumbled, grabbing England by his beard and pulling him back down to his lips. Damn it, why was his stupid beard such a turn on?**! **Despite his flaming asshole, every touch of England's beard sent tingles down his skin. Breaking the kiss, England stretched his arm over to the nightstand to grab the bottle of lube. Sitting back, he opened it and spread some on his fingers.

"You... you look like an old man... you know that?" America panted. England lowered his fingers to America's ass, his cool, wet fingers massaging around America's hole, making him moan.

"Well then... why don't you just lay back and let daddy take care of you?" England murmured as he lowered his head to America's stomach and began pushing his fingers in. America squirmed under all the stimulation. England enjoyed every moment as he sent light kisses up America's chubby belly. He knew the other detested the affection there, but England loved kissing and rubbing his soft pudge.

England added a third finger, stretching him out and bending his fingers upward. It was around there somewhere... and when America bucked his hips and cried, England showed no mercy to the other man's prostate. Moving down and away from his belly, England placed himself just above America's erection.

"E-E-England!" America cried, the pleasure becoming too much for him. England stopped his fingers, but only for a moment.

"I'll say, America... I bet you've never been blown by a man with beard before," England mused. America squirmed again, shaking his head weakly. England ran his tongue slowly up America's length, making the other practically scream in ecstasy. England then took the tip into his mouth, taking his time as he lapped around America's head and dug his tongue against his slit.

"Eng-England, I'm gonna—"

"Don't," England replied quickly, grasping at America's base with his free hand.

"No, stop!" America hissed.

"No... just hold it. You can do it," England cooed as he practically nuzzled America's groin, sucking on the others balls.

"NNG! Not when you do THAT!" America yelled. Still, he didn't come. America was never the kind of person to back down from a challenge. And especially not one coming from England.

"You seem to be doing fine to me," England replied casually, as he moved his fingers again, which were still lodged in America ass and hit his sweet spot once more.

"England!" he yelled. To England's surprise, he still didn't cum. He finally removed his fingers, making America whine at the absence. But America knew better... he knew what was coming next was much better than a couple of fingers and he nearly came at the thought as England hoisted both himself and America up. He quickly rubbed down his own length with lube and then placed himself at America's hole. Eagerly waiting to be filled, America was disappointed when England didn't go in. America whined as he tried thrusting his hips to make England go in, but England's grip on America's waist stayed strong. The tip of England's dick rubbing against his entrance was only teasing him more. With one look at him, America knew exactly what the older, bearded man wanted...

"P-Please... England, fuck me... fuck me into this mattress," America begged. Still, he received no response from the man whom he was at his complete disposal. "En-England, damn it... I need your cock. I need you inside of me... I need..." America's eyes wandered back to the start of all this... the beard. That soft, curly mess that was now a part of England's face... and America realized the magic word. "I-I want your beard all over by body, please!"

England shoved in all at once as America yelped in surprise, his back arching off the mattress. "So glad to finally hear you say it, poppet," England murmured into America's ear before attacking his neck with kisses and love bites. America grabbed his beard in one of his hands, pulling his face to his. America smirked... if anything, England's beard was handy for pulling him in the right directions. Once England's lips were over his, America had no problem letting the smaller man dominate the kiss as long as America could keep running his fingers through his beard. England began pounding into America as the heat was becoming too much for him to bear.

"Aaaaah... ENGLAND!" America cried, yanking on England's beard as he found his sweet spot again.

"Ow! Stop tugging on it!" England growled as his beard was pulled.

"Nng... England, I'm really gon—NAAA!" America squealed as he climaxed all over his stomach. Quickening his pace, it wasn't long before England finished as well, grunting as he filled the American. Pulling out, he collapsed next to America, both men panting from exhaustion.

"H-Hey, England?" America asked, breaking the short silence.

"Yes?"

"I... I'm sorry I made fun of your beard and called it weird... it's not so bad," America mumbled, embarrassed as he cuddled up next to England and began stroking his beard.

"Fine, fine... I suppose you're forgiven," England replied, yawning as both men soon drifted off into a deep sleep.

* * *

_The following morning..._

America cuddled into his pillow as he began to feel the beginnings of his body waking up. He didn't want to wake up. He wanted to go back to sleep and cuddle more with... England?

Even with his eyes closed, he could tell that England was no longer in bed and had gotten up without him. America opened his eyes, grumbling. "That jerk..." he said as he tossed the blankets off of himself. Damn, he really had to piss...

That's when he realized that the bathroom door was shut and he could hear the faucet running. Before he could even yell at England to hurry up, the water stopped running and the door opened.

"Couldn't even wait for me, da—?"

America froze when he saw England standing before him, towel slung over his shoulder, a toothbrush in hand... and his face freshly shaven. "Y-You... you shaved?**!**"

"Yes. It was a fright to maintain and dreadfully itchy," England replied, scratching his cheek. "Still... I simply had to tease you with it first!"

"B-B-But..."

"I never imagined you'd actually like it... I mean, honestly... a beard fetish? How absurd!" England teased, reaching up to ruffle America's hair as he walked passed him. America slowly walked into the bathroom to see the remains of England's beard slung into the wastebasket.

That day, America mourned the loss of one of the greatest sexual experiences he had ever known.

* * *

**A/N**: What the, I don't... yeah, I'm not even gonna pretend like I didn't know what I was doing when I wrote this. So yeah, the first of my many strange kinks. I LIKE BEARDS, GUYS. And there is no beard-play on here... not even for France, who _has_ a beard (or a semblance of one). I haven't even seen beard fanart... so yeah... HERE'S MY CONTRIBUTION TO THE BEARD LOVING COMMUNITY. /shot


End file.
